


R.A.P.I.L.A.

by neko_fish



Series: R.A.P.I.L.A. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Awesome Laura Hale, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Umbrellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko_fish/pseuds/neko_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Stiles talks to Derek Hale, it’s raining, it’s pouring, and Scott went and ditched him to ‘study’ with Allison. </p><p>(Thank you, best friend Scott.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	R.A.P.I.L.A.

The first time Stiles talks to Derek Hale, it’s raining, it’s pouring, and Scott went and ditched him to ‘study’ with Allison.

(Thank you, best friend Scott.)

Lacrosse practice just ended, so after gathering his things, he makes his way through the main entrance alone with every intention of getting to his jeep and driving home. But when he opens the door, he sees water coming down from the sky and wonders when it started raining so hard.

Stiles reaches back and grabs his umbrella from his backpack, because it’s really coming down and he _just_ showered. He’s about to walk to the parking lot when a figure standing by the pick-up zone catches his eye. Hunched over to shield themselves from the rain, the person’s practically emitting misery and angst.

So being the ( ~~impulsive~~ ) kind and considerate human being he is, Stiles walks over and hold his umbrella over the person’s head only to realize too late that the moody figure is none other than _Derek Hale_. 

Derek Hale, the ridiculously good looking senior no one seems to know anything about.

Derek Hale, the guy who ( ~~broods~~ ) sits at the far corner of the cafeteria with his little ragtag pack—or as Stiles has mentally dubbed it: the ‘Ridiculously Attractive People in Leather Association’, or ‘RAPILA’ for short.

Derek Hale, the guy who he may or may not have been eye-stalking since his first year in high school (he may be openly in love with Lydia, but he’s allowed to have interests elsewhere as well, traitorous as that sounds).

Derek Hale, who’s staring at him with a ( ~~stupidly attractive~~ ) baffled and slightly mistrustful expression on his face.

It’s only then that he realizes he’s just standing there and staring at the guy like a creeper.

Whoops.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to come up with something to say to no avail. Then, when his voice finally starts working again, the first thing that comes tumbling out is an intelligent “Uh…it’s raining,” as way of explanation because there are times when the connection between his mouth and brain doesn’t work properly.

Arching a brow, Derek shoots him a look, one that is clearly assessing his sanity or there lack of.

When Derek doesn’t give him a verbal response, as usual, Stiles feels personally obligated to fill the silence with words and animated hand gestures. “I meant, it’s raining and I saw you standing out here without an umbrella or anything, not that I knew it was you until just now, but I was like, ‘Hey, you know what sucks? Waiting in the rain sucks.’ So then I came over. Why are you still here anyway? You’re not in a club or anything—not that I would know, but it’s sort of common knowledge, so I guess I do know. But the means through which I acquired this information is perfectly legit!”

He forces his jaws shut because it’s the only way to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Derek’s staring at him like he’s a lunatic now, not that Stiles can blame him. There’s a reason he’s never been voted ‘Most Popular’ in their yearbook. He’s about to ramble out an apology when Derek speaks up, “Laura. My sister.” Stiles clamps his mouth shut with an audible click and listens. “She’s supposed to pick me up but she’s late.”

Derek’s voice isn’t as deep as Stiles had expected—not that he’s ever spent time thinking about it or anything. He’s also pretty sure that it would be construed as ‘stalker-ish’ if he mentions that he already knew that Laura was Derek’s older sister, so instead, he says, “Oh cool. I’d offer you a ride, but I guess you don’t need it.”

He gets a noncommittal noise in response.

Stiles decides to take the grunt as a sign of agreement, so he continues, “So what’s it like, having a big sister? And a little sister too, I guess, since Cora’s in a couple of my classes. I don’t have any siblings, but you’ve got a big family, right?” Then he hastily adds, “Word on the street has it.”

“Word on the street has it…” The corner of Derek’s lips twitches, though Stiles is pretty convinced that it was just his brain playing tricks on him. “It’s okay, I suppose.”

Apparently Derek’s incapable of speaking more than ten words at a time. He can work with that though. “So how come you’re the only one waiting for a ride? Where’s Cora?” He looks around the area only to find it devoid of people. “I thought I saw her watching during practice.”

Derek shrugs. “With Isaac, probably.”

Isaac Lahey. Stiles remembers when he used to not remember him. Isaac was a benchwarmer like him and Scott on the lacrosse team—until he wasn’t. At one point between his father’s arrest and him making first string, Isaac started hanging out with Derek and _changed_. Now he smiles, he talks to people, he walks around with his head held high, and, according to Scott, he even got a part time job at Deaton’s.

“Huh, so are they actually going out and ‘studying’ or what?” Stiles asks, because he’s actually curious.

And just like that, he’s talking to Derek Hale. Mostly, he’s talking _at_ Derek, but they’re still standing under the same umbrella and neither of them have made any moves to leave yet (and by that, it means Derek hasn’t run off in fear yet). 

He’s not sure how much time’s gone by when a Camaro speeds towards them and pulls up next to them with a screeching halt. The window rolls down and a beautiful woman with long brown hair and a leather jacket looks out. There must be a gene for beauty in the Hale family, Stiles decides. An attractiveness gene and a penchant for leather jackets.

She has an apologetic look on her face when she calls out, “I’m so sorry I’m late, bro! I completely forgot! Why didn’t you call me?”

Derek shrugs. Apparently, he’s as talkative with his family as with everyone else. That titbit of knowledge makes Stiles feel a little better. Before getting into the car, Derek glances over at him for a moment and mutters, “Thanks, I guess.”

Stiles blinks, snapping out of his thought and flails his arms, nearly taking out both their eyes. “Yeah, no problem! Any time, dude!” Then he remembers that Derek probably had no idea that he existed before today and says, “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

Watching Derek get into the car, Stiles could’ve sworn he saw his lips twitching again. “I know.”

Right before they speed away, he can hear Laura saying, “Aww, Der-Bear, did you make a new friend?”

He doesn’t hear Derek’s reply since they’re already racing down the road, but it doesn’t matter because his mind’s wrapped around the “I know” Derek had uttered before that.

Derek Hale knows who he is.

And also—‘ _Der-Bear’_.

\--

Later that night, he, like the amazing best friend he is, relays everything that took place to Scott over the phone. “Seriously! I had a real conversation with Derek Hale!”

“When did this happen?”

“After practice—after you _ditched_ me!” he says, because he’s not above rubbing it in Scott’s face. “But that’s not the point. So it was raining, right? I was heading to my car when I saw him just standing there and I was like ‘Oh, hey, dude standing in the rain,’ and decided to share my umbrella with him and then it was like ‘Oh, hey, it’s Derek Hale!’ And get this, he knew who I was!”

Scott makes a skeptical noise. It’s an unattractive noise and Stiles really should tell him to never make it again for his own sake. “Are you sure he wasn’t just being polite? Most people don’t like admitting to not knowing people.”

He arches a brow. “I somehow doubt Derek Hale is the type to go out of his way to be polite to people. Have you _seen_ the way he scowls at people at school?”

“Not really. I don’t spend my entire lunch period watching him, but I get what you mean,” Scott concedes. “Look, I’m sorry about today. It’s just that things have been really good with Allison lately and I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Stiles sighs, “Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it. We’re fine.”

“Seriously, things are good.”

He furrows his brows. “Okay, I’m aware of how good things are with Allison.”

“They’re really good.”

“I—thank you. I know.”

“I mean, like, _really_ good.”

Rolling his eyes, he ends the call.

\--

The next time he talks to Derek, it’s raining again. Seeing the lone figure standing around, he makes his way over and without hesitation. He thrusts his umbrella over Derek’s head and says, “Dude, you need to get your own car.”

Derek doesn’t seem surprised by his presence and grunts his noncommittal response.

“Sorry, what was that? Work with me, dude. I need _words_ ,” he teases.

It shouldn’t feel so natural for him to tease the guy he’s been eye-stalking for over a year right in his face, but it does and he’s not about to stop just because it’s probably a ‘bad idea’. He has all too many of those and they've never stopped him before. Besides, they only end badly ( ~~most~~ ) _some_ of the time.

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek grunts.

He nods slowly. “Alright, coherent words is a good start. Now, are you gonna tell me why you don’t have a car? I always thought your family was loaded—not like, _Jackson_ loaded, but well off enough to get a cheap car or something. I mean, dude, you live pretty far from the school—another common piece of knowledge, by the way, since your house is famous around here.”

It takes a moment for Derek to pick out the important bits of his rambling. It’s a skill that’s perfected with time and practice, or so he’s told by his dad. And Scott. And Scott’s mom. And occasionally Allison. And everyone at the station.

When he’s finally finished sifting through the words, Derek looks almost embarrassed as he admits, “We were given a budget for cars.”

Blinking, he nods and encourages the other to continue. “And?”

“And Laura tricked me. She said it’d be better to pool our money together and share the Camaro. I agreed and then she stole the car,” Derek concludes unhappily.

Stiles had thought a lot of things about Derek. There were many, many adjectives he could’ve used to describe the other boy: ridiculously handsome, well-built, mysterious, slightly antisocial, angsty, and broody. Gullible hadn’t been one of them—until now.

Unable to help himself, he bursts into laughter. “That seriously sucks, dude. I can’t believe you’d believe her. Sister or no sister, it was obviously a trick. You, my scowl-y friend, got scammed.”

Derek huffs and crosses his arms. What he’s doing could be considered man-pouting, and Stiles isn’t about to let it pass without laughing at it a bit more.

“What would _you_ have done?” Derek asks, seething.

Straightening his back and holding the umbrella back over their heads, Stiles answers, “ _Obviously_ , I would’ve gotten my own car. Nothing’s better than having your own car. Have you seen my jeep? She’s gorgeous.”

“It’s not that great,” Derek mutters.

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. “No, you did not just.”

By the time Laura pulls up next to them in the Camaro, they’ve somehow gone from debating about cars to arguing about Batman versus the X-Men. And from there, they digressed from debating like civil people to exchanging insults and threats. At one point, Derek even threatened to rip his throat out.

With his _teeth_.

It really shouldn’t have sounded as tempting as it did.

They only stop when Laura calls out, “Der-Bear, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Stiles grins and elbows him. He really likes Laura in a non-romantic way. They could totally be friends. “Yeah, _Der-Bear_ , aren’t you gonna introduce me?”

“Not if I can help it,” Derek mutters under his breath.

He didn’t deny the ‘friend’ bit, Stiles notes, feeling rather giddy about it.

When Derek doesn’t make any move to start the introduction, Stiles takes it upon himself to do it instead. “I’m Stiles Stilinski. Nice to meet you.”

Laura smiles. “Oh? The Sheriff’s kid? I’m Laura. Thanks for sharing your umbrella with my kid brother. I know he doesn’t always play nicely with others.”

Stiles shoots him a mock-surprised look. “You don’t say.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek scowls and gives him a light shove and gets into the car.

“Whatever you say, _Der-Bear_ ,” he coos. “I’ll see you around.”

“I like this one,” Laura says with a laugh. “Definitely a keeper.”

Derek lets out a grunt and waves goodbye as Laura smiles at him again and speeds off.

Apparently he’s friends with Derek Hale now.

\--

“Did you know the Hale kids are given a car budget?” Stiles asks his father over dinner. He’s having leftover pizza while his dad’s stuck with a salad with minimal dressing. It’s low on fat, low on cholesterol (and low on taste, according to John).

Shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth with a look of displeasure, John looks over at him and asks, “Oh? And where’d you hear this little interesting piece of trivia?”

He shrugs. “From the man himself: Derek Hale.”

“From Derek Hale?”

“Yeah, we’re friends now. You know, rain and stuff. So it turns out his sister totally conned him out of his money and car. It was actually pretty funny. You’d never think that a guy like Derek would be so gullible, but Laura got him good.”

John blinks and repeats, “You’re friends with Derek Hale because of…‘rain and stuff’?”

“Yes, that’s what I said, like, a whole paragraph ago…” Stiles furrows his brows, “is your hearing okay, dad?”

“It must be all this salad. It feels like I’m up to my ears in lettuce. Maybe it’d help if I had a slice of that pizza,” his father suggests helpfully, “or maybe just meat.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, no. Nice try.”

“Fine, crush an old man’s dreams. But seriously, it’s like I blinked and missed a huge chunk of the story. Go back and start at the beginning, like, when you actually met him.”

So he does, and when he’s done his tale, his father still looks confused, but for a different reason. “What now?” Stiles asks.

John shakes his head. “It’s just, I thought you were head over heels in love with Lydia Martin.”

He chokes on his pizza. “What? Oh my god—how did you even—? I am! I totally am! I’m head over heels for Lydia Martin! She’s brilliant and perfect and a goddess and her smile makes flowers bloom and her laugh is the reason why the sun still shines and the Earth still rotates on its axis! There’s nothing between me and Derek Hale except friendship! Purely platonic friendship!”

Letting out a snort, his father gives him a sarcastic nod. “Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays? There’s nothing wrong with it, son. You know I’ll love you no matter what,” John reassures him, suddenly serious, demonstrating the Stilinski men’s infamous ability to selectively hear what they want.

Desperate to change the subject, he asks, “Even if I turn into a serial killer? Like, Hannibal Lecter serial killer.”

His father studies him for a moment, clearly considering the hypothetical situation. “Even then. Of course, just because I love you, it doesn’t mean I won’t toss you in jail and ground you for life.”

“Good to know there are boundaries,” Stiles tells him. “But if I was in jail, there’d be no one around to monitor your diet.”

“I’m not entirely convinced that that’d be a bad thing,” John replies breezily. “ _So_ , son, tell me more about this Derek Hale with whom you share a ‘platonic friendship’.”

That’s the problem with Scott and his dad, he decides. 

One listens too little and the other too much.

\--

The third time they share an umbrella happens just a few days later, because it’s fall and apparently the sun decided to give Beacon Hills the finger and went on vacation. Opening up his umbrella as he steps outside, out of habit (and definitely not wishful thinking), he glances around the area and spots the lone figure standing there, broody and waiting.

Walking over, he holds the umbrella over Derek’s head and says, “You know what they say.”

Derek turns and arches a brow at him. “What does who say?”

Stiles really wishes he had thought about that before trying to start a conversation.

“My dad,” he blurts out with a shrug. “Yeah, there’s this thing he always says: 'One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern.' You know, sheriff talk.”

“Three’s a pattern,” Derek repeats to himself thoughtfully. “What’s four then?”

He pauses, never having put that much thought into it. “A conspiracy of the highest order?”

Derek chuffs, and Stiles is pretty sure that that’s as close to a laugh as he’s ever going to get from the guy, and that makes him feel pretty good about himself.

A comfortable lull falls between them. It’s comfortable, but Stiles has never been good at just letting things be. The first thing that comes to mind is to suggest that Derek go and get his own umbrella. However, there seems to be an unspoken agreement between them where Stiles doesn’t make said suggestion, and Derek doesn’t tell him that he doesn’t need to do this (i.e. share an umbrella and wait for Laura with him).

So instead, Stiles ends up asking, “So is Laura always this late? I mean, even practice’s ended already.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, she just does this on certain days.”

“Like, she has a regular schedule for being late?” he asks. “So you know when she’s going to be late then?”

“Not exactly. She’s just being Laura,” Derek growls. It’s probably the most emotion he’s displayed since _ever,_ and Stiles is pretty sure there’s more to it than just Laura’s poor punctuality.

“Well, at least it’s better than being stuck at practice. Me and Scott pretty much just sit on the bench and do absolutely nothing while Jackson goes around being a massive asshole to everyone except Danny,” he says. “If you want to see it in its full glory, you should come watch one of our games.”

After the words come tumbling out, Stiles stops and considers the gravity of his words. He just asked Derek Hale to go watch a lacrosse game, where he’ll be sitting on the bleachers (or lurking from the side) with Cora and Allison and Lydia, all of whom are going out with boys on the team. That wouldn’t be awkward _at all_. Not to mention his brain might explode from being in such close proximity to both Lydia and Derek at the same time.

He quickly shrugs and adds, “Or you can, you know, _not_ come watch our games. It’s totally up to you. But, I mean, Isaac and Cora will be there too, so, you know? Yay, company?”

 _Smooth_ , his inner Scott tells him.

(Thank you, inner best friend Scott.)

Derek’s looking at him like he’s crazy again, but then he shrugs. “Maybe. Cora and Isaac have been trying to get me to go watch one. Maybe it’ll get them to shut up.”

Before Stiles can process that one word, the Camaro pulls up and Laura calls out, “Hi Stiles. Sorry, bro, you’re in the back today.”

“Why.”

It’s amazing how little inflection Derek manages to use when speaking.

“Hello, Derek,” a new voice greets them. “And you must be Stiles. Nice to meet you.”

Stiles furrows his brows and looks into the car to find a man sitting in the front seat. Next to him, Laura shrugs. “Uncle Peter’s car broke down and I had to pick him up on my way here.”

“He didn’t even drive today. I saw his car at home when we left this morning,” Derek grits out. “Laura, you’re the worst human being to have ever walked the Earth.

Laura huffs. “Rude. Is that any way to talk to your big sister?”

Meanwhile, the man smiles and introduces himself, “I’m Derek and Laura’s Uncle Peter. So I hear you’re in the same grade as Cora?”

“No,” Derek quickly shakes his head and gets into the backseat, “this is not happening. We’re going home, _now._ ” 

If Stiles didn’t know any better, he would say Derek looked flustered.

“Oh?” Laura arches a brow at the challenge. “Or else what?”

“Or else I’m telling mom about the drunk raccoons.”

Laura immediately frowns and turns in her seat to face her brother. “You wouldn’t.”

Derek shoots her an unimpressed look.

“I’ll get you back for this,” she mutters, shifting gears. She sighs in defeat and calls out the window, “Sorry, Stiles. Looks like Der-Bear wants to go home. Thanks for sheltering him from the rain!”

“Yeah, anytime,” Stiles says with a wave, not entirely sure what just transpired.

He really wants to know more about the drunk raccoons.

\--

“I think I’m actually friends with Derek Hale. Like, legit friends. Not bros or anything, but friend-friends. He’s even started making eye contact with me during lunch,” Stiles tells the McCalls over dinner because his dad’s at work and it’s been too long since he’s had dinner with Scott.

Melissa looks up at the ceiling and sighs, “This is what I do with my time off, apparently. I feed lost boys that crawl in through my son’s window.”

“But we lock the front door. He wouldn’t be able to get in,” Scott protests.

“And I’m not lost,” Stiles adds helpfully. “I know where I am and I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“That’s good to know,” she deadpans. “So, Derek Hale. New crush? What happened to Lydia?”

Stiles sits up and frowns. “ _No_. _Not_ new crush. Purely platonic friendship. And Lydia’s still the world’s smartest and most perfect human being— _as always_. God, have you been talking to my dad? Anyway, so I met Derek’s uncle today. Is that weird? I think it’s weird,”

“Dude, you met his uncle too?” Scott asks him, looking appropriately shocked by the news. “Yeah, that’s kinda weird. You know, like, most of his family now. Definitely not normal. I mean, everyone knows _about_ them, but actually _knowing_ them? Weird.”

He nods fervently, pleased that someone’s agreeing with him. “Right?”

There’s a buzz and Scott glances down. “Allison thinks it’s weird too.”

Stiles gapes. “What the hell, dude? You’re texting all this to Allison?”

Scott looks up. “Was I not supposed to?”

“That,” he tells Scott with a frown, “is not cool, man. Like, temperature of the sun level not cool.”

“But I thought you liked science.”

He shoots Melissa a look as though to say ‘look at the things I have to put up with.’

“Don’t look at me. He’s _your_ best friend, not mine. I’m just his legal guardian until he turns 18,” she says and continues eating her dinner while Scott’s still waiting for him to respond.

Stiles sighs, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

\--

Word doesn’t get out fast about his new-found (purely platonic) friendship with Derek.

Actually, word doesn’t get out at all. This is probably due to the fact that Scott is the only person who knows of and regularly acknowledges his existence (when he’s not too busy acknowledging Allison’s glorious existence), and Derek goes out of his way to be a non-entity.

Stiles is actually a little disappointed at that because he actually had real conversations with _Derek Hale_ and no one cares enough to appreciate the enormity of it all.

That’s what he thinks until Erica Reyes gives him a once-over in the hallway, which sends shivers down his spine in both a good and bad, creepy way. He’s still not entirely sure what happened to her. Freshman year, she was some frail and sick girl who wore baggy clothes, and now she’s—well, the word ‘sensational’ comes to mind. With her new-found self-confidence and equally new wardrobe, she’s become a full-fledged member of the RAPILA.

She smiles at him and all he wants to do is forsake his manliness and run away because that’s not a nice smile on her lips, it’s the smile of a predator. It’s the smile of someone who would happily knock him unconscious with parts from his own car and look good while doing it.

Unfortunately, by the time he’s made the decision to ditch all attempts to salvage his dignity, it’s too late. “Hey Stiles.”

“Erica! Hi! You’re looking great as always! Did you do something with your hair? It’s very nice to see you, but oh, would you look at the time! I have to go and find my—” he turns around only to see Vernon Boyd, the last member of the RAPILA and Erica’s boyfriend, “oh my god! Well, hello there, Boyd! Like I was just saying to Erica, I’ve got to go and,” he turns again only to see Isaac, “super! Hi Isaac. Looks like the whole gang’s here, huh?”

They don’t say anything as they start inching closer to him.

He’s never been claustrophobic but now seems like as good a time as any to start.

With his back pressed against the lockers, his gaze shifts from one person to the other, half expecting them to grow fangs and claws or something. “What’s happening? Why is this happening? Am I gonna die? Did I break some sort of secret code? Oh my god, I’m gonna die.”

Before he can get a full-blown panic attack, a voice breaks the tension and asks, “What are you three doing?”

“Oh thank god.” Stiles lets out a loud sigh of relief and slides to the floor. He looks up to see who his saviour is only to find a very confused and wary Derek standing there with Cora by his side. “Hi Derek.”

“What are you three doing?” Derek repeats with more force this time.

The three of them turn away with innocent looks on their faces and give simultaneous shrugs.

“Nothing bad, Derek. We were just saying hi to Stiles here,” Erica tells him before strutting off with Boyd. Stiles is pretty sure she’s laughing, but the sound of blood coursing through his ears is blocking it out.

Isaac turns around and says, “Laura and Erica,” as way of explanation.

Derek heaves a heavy sigh. “I can’t even pretend to be surprised.”

Stiles is surprised that Derek has ever pretended to be surprised.

“Are you just going to sit there all day?” Cora asks him, eyebrow arched in an unimpressed manner (it’s definitely a Hale thing).

“Maybe,” he replies, patting the floor. “This is a nice floor. I never really noticed before, but it’s actually a great floor. Top ten for sure. I mean, it’s nice and stable. And if an earthquake was to hit us right now, I won’t be in danger of falling over.”

The bell rings and Cora rolls her eyes and pulls him up by the hand before he can get trampled by the hoard of students flooding the hallway.

“Stiles, are you alright?” Derek asks him.

Leaning against his locker, he nods and waves them off. “Yeah, just peachy. No problems here. You guys should probably get to class. I’ll see you around.”

Derek hesitates for a moment and dips his head and disappears down the hall just as Scott and Allison make their way over to him.

“ _Dude_ , that just happened,” is all Scott manages to say.

“I know. I was there. Now help me get to class. My legs have stopped working,” he mutters.

Allison gives him a sympathetic pat on the back and lets him sling an arm over her shoulders for support.

\--

There’s no practice that day, but he still gets out late because Harris hates his guts and decided to give him detention for no apparent reason. When he finally steps outside, he’s surprised to find Erica standing outside the classroom, waiting for him. “Stiles.”

Stiles immediately looks around to see if the other RAPILA members are hanging around. There’s no one else around and that makes him nervous. “Erica,” he greets, making his way towards his locker.

“Look, about earlier, I didn’t mean to give you a panic attack,” she sighs.

“I wasn’t having a panic attack,” he protests—because he _wasn’t_.

Her lips curl upwards. “Either way, I’m sorry, okay? I got carried away. I remember what it was like when people messed around with me just for the hell of it.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’d probably do the same if I suddenly turned all,” he gestures at her, “Catwoman.”

“Catwoman? That’s an interesting adjective. Does that make you Batman then?” she asks with a teasing grin.

“I would not be averse to being Batman. Because Batman’s awesome—way cooler than Wolverine, no matter what Derek thinks,” Stiles says, shoving his things into his backpack. “What happened, anyway? I mean, before, you weren’t exactly,” he gestures to her again, “and don’t get me wrong! I’m really happy for you, but _how_? And it’s not only you—it’s you, Isaac, _and_ Boyd.”

Erica gives him a wry smile. “I can’t speak for Isaac or Boyd, but for me, there was a drug trial. The doctors told me about it the last time I got hospitalized and I figured I had nothing to lose by trying it. That’s where I met the Hales. Turned out that one of their cousins was doing it too.”

“Oh, that’s way less exciting than what I had in mind,” Stiles admits.

“What were you expecting?” she asks.

They make their way outside and he shrugs. “I don’t know. More magic?”

She laughs. “No magic, only drugs.”

“I’m really glad it worked though, though. It’s nice seeing you like this.” As they exit the building, Stiles can see the Camaro parked and waiting for Erica with Laura and Derek sitting in the front and watching them. “Wow, that doesn’t raise any red flags at all. Tell them they shouldn’t lurk around like that or someone might get the wrong idea and call the cops.”

“I’ll let them know. Laura wanted to go shopping, so we’re off to terrorize poor, unsuspecting people at the mall.” Erica smiles, and this time, it’s not a predatory smile, but rather, an affectionate one. “For what it’s worth, Stiles—you make a good Batman. I’ll see you around.” She leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek before walking over and getting into the car.

He reaches up to touch his cheek and can’t help but smile. “You go get’em, Catwoman.”

\--

After his little bonding moment with Erica, things go back to normal for the most part. He still shares his umbrella with Derek whenever it’s raining and Laura’s late (meaning more often than not), and he never gets cornered by the RAPILA again. No, instead, they’ve gotten to the point where they’re saying hello to each other in the hallways and occasionally engaging in conversation now.

“Dude, you’re like, a member of their group now,” Scott tells him on their ‘Bros' Night In’, which consists of pizza and hours of Halo.

“No, I’m not. I can’t be. I don’t wear leather,” Stiles corrects him, “and that’s clearly a strict requirement. It’s probably on their member application form: ‘Do you wear leather? If no, would you look good in leather?’”

Scott huffs, “Fine, an honorary member or something. Whatever.”

Eyes never leaving the screen, he shrugs. “I’m sorta friends with them now. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is—are you going out with Derek?” Scott blurts.

He pauses the game because seriously, what? 

“ _What_?”

“It’s just, you don’t get to be part of their group without Derek’s approval, which is, like, _impossible_ , and you’ve clearly gotten it somehow. And lately, you’ve been talking about Derek more than Lydia, and I know you, Stiles. I saw you staring at leather jackets and hair gel at the mall last week, kind of like how you used to stare at perfume and dresses,” Scott tells him, because Scott secretly has amazing Stiles-observational skills.

They’re all valid points. But so what if he’s had Derek on his mind more often than not? And so what if he talks about Derek more often than Lydia (who’s still the most amazing human being to have ever walked the earth)? It’s not like it really means anything.

In a softer voice, Scott tells him, “You know you can tell me anything, right, Stiles?”

And now he feels like he just kicked a puppy. “I know that. Of course I know! We’re bros and if anything that big ever happens to me, you can bet your inhaler that I’ll be screaming it to your face, in your face, at your face. But me and Derek are just friends.”

“But you like him, right?” Scott asks.

“I can give you a definite maybe,” he answers. “Are we done talking about our feelings now, _Sam Winchester_?”

“Yeah, sure, but, it’s just…I think he likes you back,” Scott tells him. “What would you say if he were to ask you out?”

Stiles shrugs and unpauses the game. “Hypothetically speaking, I wouldn’t not say yes,” he admits.

Then he proceeds to kill Scott by running him over with a warthog.

\--

Nearly a week later, he runs into Derek at the grocery store. It’s a small shop that’s made up of a grand total of five aisles and is ran by a nice, elderly couple. It doesn’t have the best selection, but it has the freshest and the most local produce—which is exactly what his dad needs (not to mention they’ve known him since he was a child and he would feel bad about not shopping here at least once a week).

He’s on his way to the checkout when he hears, “It’s so nice of your mother to send you all this way. Such a handsome boy like you really should smile more. Go on, give us a smile.”

When he rounds the corner, he sees Derek standing there with bags of groceries on the counter and a forced smile on his face. Stiles walks into one of the shelves and knocks over a couple bags of chips. He lets out an undignified squawk and fumbles around, arms flailing as he tries to catch everything and fails.

Everyone turns to stare at him. He looks up from the fallen chips and smiles and gives a stiff wave. “Hey, Derek. Fancy seeing you here.”

The next thing Stiles knows, he’s standing outside with Derek and watching him load his car. “Looks like you finally managed to get the Camaro from Laura.”

Derek snorts. “Only to run errands because she didn’t want to do it.”

He glances into the trunk of the car and asks, “Is that a bag full of umbrellas?”

“Yeah, my mom just noticed that all the umbrellas in the house have been destroyed or lost and sent me to restock,” Derek explains.

“Oh,” he says, feeling a pang of disappointment in his stomach. “Guess you’re all set for rainy days ahead then.”

There’s a brief pause between them before Derek asks, “Did you drive?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but it’s fine. I don’t live too far from here so—”

“Get in the car. I’ll give you a ride,” Derek orders, leaving no room for arguments.

He does as he’s told because who is he to say no to an assertive Derek Hale? “Dude, you know where I live?”

They’re sitting in the car now and Derek turns to him with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No. Why would I know where you live?”

“Oh, right. I guess my address isn’t common knowledge like yours. I don’t know why I kept thinking you would use your werewolf powers or something,” he blabs.

Just when Stiles thought Derek couldn’t look any more confused, he gets proven wrong. “Werewolf powers? What?”

“Ah, whoops.” It’s not exactly a piece of information Stiles had ever planned on disclosing, but now that he’s said it, he figures he might as well get it all out of the way. “I never told you? I had this theory that you were secretly a werewolf and you turned Erica and Isaac and Boyd because—well, _because_. And I can totally see you guys howling at the full moon. It was either that or a wizard.”

Derek chuffs. “Wizards and werewolves don’t exist.”

“You’re just jealous because you’re a muggle,” he retorts.

They somehow spend the next 15 minutes sitting in the parking lot arguing over Harry Potter and eating his newly bought chips along with the stash of chocolate Laura keeps in the glove compartment.

“And how would you get sorted into whatever house you want? By punching the Sorting Hat in the face?” Stiles asks with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

Rolling his eyes, Derek retorts, “I’m thinking about punching _you_ in the face.”

He pauses and looks around for a comeback when he notices the store owner watching them from the window. “Why’s she staring at us like that?”

“Probably because we’ve been sitting out here for quite a while now,” Derek suggests easily.

“Oh yeah, I guess we have. Why _are_ we still here?”

Derek arches a brow. “Because you still haven’t told me where you live.”

“Ah,” he gives a slow nod, “right. That would probably help, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe just a little,” Derek replies with a shrug. “It’s either that we sit here until your dad comes looking for you in his patrol car.”

The sad part is that Stiles can see that happening. “You make an excellent point there. How long have we been sitting here?”

“Almost 20 minutes now, probably.”

Stiles puts what’s left of the chocolate back in the glove compartment and gestures for Derek to start the car. “Good, that gives us maybe five minutes before he freaks out and comes in with the sirens blazing. Let’s go before you get arrested.”

Starting the car, Derek spares him a wary glance. “Why would I get arrested? I haven’t done anything.”

“Yeah, but you kinda look like a violent criminal from certain angles.”

“What.”

“But that’s not necessarily a bad thing!” he tries. “Not many people can pull it off quite as well as you do, you know?”

They manage to argue for the rest of the two minute drive and when the car comes to a halt, so does their conversation. Derek opens his mouth to say something but then seems to change his mind and says instead, “Your dad’s at the window.”

He looks at his house and sees that his father is, indeed, standing at the window, and buries his face in his hands and groans, “Oh my god, he’s the worst.”

“Not really,” Derek reassures him. “If we were at my place, there’d be at least five people doing the same thing—more, if the others are over. Sometimes, we make popcorn and turn it into a family event.”

And Stiles can’t help laughing as he opens the door and gets out of the car. “So I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around at school.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around. Try not to faceplant on your way back inside.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I can walk a couple meters without falling over just fine,” he protests half-heartedly. Then, because it feels a little too much a final goodbye, he turns around and says, “And just for the record, if you ever accidentally forget to bring an umbrella and Laura’s late, I’m always happy to share mine with you. Yeah, that’s all. Goodnight.”

Before Derek can reply, he closes the door and brings all the groceries back inside to where his dad’s waiting with his car keys in hand.

“So, how’s the purely platonic friendship with Derek Hale going?” John asks.

“I have no idea, dad,” he confesses. “I just spent half an hour sitting in a car with Derek Hale, eating chips and his sister’s chocolate and arguing about Harry Potter. What would you even call that?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, John shrugs. “Well, all I can say is that it sounds eerily similar to my first date with your mother. You know, back in the day when I was still allowed to eat junk food. Turned out the theatre was closed for renovations, so we went to the nearest drive-thru, ordered some curly fries, and then we just sat in the car and hung out.”

Stiles smiles at the thought of his parents bantering in a car. “Aww, you never told me your first date with mom was so lame.”

John scoffs and wraps his arms around his son in a loose hug. “Lame? I prefer to call it the Stilinski charm. She never stood a chance. It’s also how I know you’re going to be just fine, kiddo.”

Returning the hug with a smile, Stiles mutters, “Thanks, dad.”

“Right.” John lets him go with a pat on the shoulder and a nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should probably go call off that search and let the guys know that you’re okay.”

He really hopes his father’s joking, but then he hears his dad pick up the phone and calls out, “You know, it’s things like this that might turn a kid into a serial killer!”

\--

It’s raining the next day and coach decides to have mercy on them by ending practice a few minutes early. He tries not to think about how Derek will have his own umbrella now and won't need him to share his, but the more he tries to ignore the thought, the louder it gets. After changing and drying off, Stiles makes his way outside as usual, eager to get home to distract himself from his disappointment, only to come to a surprised halt to find Derek standing in the rain.

Without an umbrella.

Opening his umbrella up, Stiles walks over and holds it over the other’s head. “Laura’s late again, hmm? By the way, didn’t you _just_ buy a dozen umbrellas last night?” he can’t help but ask.

Derek shrugs. “I must’ve accidentally forgotten to bring one. And Laura’s not coming.”

He blinks. “Really? Why?”

“Because she’s pissed that we ate her chocolate.” Then in a softer voice, he mutters, “And I may or may not have told her not to come.”

Unable to stop from breaking into a grin, he does Derek a favour and pretends not to have heard the last bit. “I guess I’ve got no choice but to give you a ride home then. What do you say to grabbing some curly fries on the way?”  

Derek’s lips curl into the faintest of smiles. “I guess I can live with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up way longer than originally planned, but oh well! 
> 
> You can read about the drunk raccoons [here](http://neko-fish.tumblr.com/post/66629196457/drabble)! Or in the next part of the series which will be a compilation of drabbles.


End file.
